


Reason #14 - Lucky Boy

by BarnesnMrNoble



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Best dog ever, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky is an amazing boyfriend, He helps the both of them, Hurt Clint Barton, Lucky as a service dog, Lucky is a good dog, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarnesnMrNoble/pseuds/BarnesnMrNoble
Summary: Clint needs a little puppy love and Lucky, being the world’s best ball of golden fur, knows just how to make Clint feel better.





	Reason #14 - Lucky Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Clint has a shit day and like twelve new bruises and injuries and it sucks a lot, but at least he has the warm embrace of his golden, pizza lovin', fur ball and his favorite soldier to make it better.

Clint stumbled through the door, looking like he drank an entire bar, and then some. His blonde hair was mussed and dirtied with whatever goo had exploded from the monster of the week. He needed a shower, bad.

He was sporting a few new bandages, on top of what he’d already received from a mission last week. A new one on his freshly recovered ribs, (so much for recovered.) one on his left wrist and two on his right leg where he’d been stabbed and then clipped with a bullet just inches above. It really was a shit mission.

He was exhausted, beyond it really. He barely even made into the apartment before collapsing against the nearest wall and sliding down in a heap of pain whimpers. His head thumped against the wall and he let his eyes fall closed, too heavy to keep open. He was more than happy to let exhaustion win and sleep there for a minimum of three days.

Clint had taken his aids out before he came home, leaving them with Tony to do some modifications knowing that’d he had a spare pair at home to last him until those were fixed. It was because of his lack of aids, that he entirely missed the soft clicking of nails, and the heavy thud of boots headed for him. Really if he hadn’t been so tired he might have been able to tell but he was so he didn’t really try to pay attention to his surroundings.

He didn’t open his eyes until a cold nose pressed against his cheek and two paws took a stance on his good leg (luckily). Even then it took him a full minute to gain the strength to open his eyes, and he only opened them enough to see the golden fur of his dog before closing them again. “Bite my neck, luck. Just— just chomp down as hard as you can. Okay?” He patiently waited for Lucky’s teeth to sink into his throat but he only got his wet nose nudging at his face and a drooling tongue slobbering all over his neck. Not quite what he was imagining but he couldn’t help his smile at it.

The weight changes on his leg and he realizes this 80 pound dogs is about to lay on his lap like he loves to do and that’s an issue because he is going to put a hell of a lot of pressure on the wounds on Clint’s leg and it’s going to hurt worse than when he got them. But with his ribs and wrist hurting as much as they do, he can’t make the move to try and redirect Lucky and he really needs the weight of the dog to keep him from delving too far into the anxiety that’s berating him right now.

He loves Lucky, wishes he had a piece of pizza to give him because the dog always seemed to know what he needed, gave him comfort after a hard day, kept him company when the apartment was too empty and the silence was a bit too much. Clint wasn’t sure he’d get through some days without the lump of golden fur and that cold, wet nose.

Clint prepares himself for that inevitable moment when Lucky digs those long nails, ones Clint has been meaning to cut -but life keeps getting in the way, being an avenger did leave him with much down time- dig into his freshly sutured leg, but it never comes. Actually, the weight of Lucky’s body is lifted from him altogether. That makes him open his eyes.

He smiles when he sees Bucky, sliding down the wall beside him. He’d moved Lucky to Clint’s other side so he could still have the presence of the dog, which he knew he needed right now, but avoided the possibility of those paws tearing the sutures Bucky didn’t want to re-do.

Bucky smiles at him and runs a hand through the worst of the matted parts of Clint’s hair. His other hand, the metal one, threads between Clint’s and gives a reassuring squeeze and then Bucky is bending towards Clint to brush his lips against his in a soft kiss. It’s sweet and short, leaving Clint to chase him a little once Bucky breaks away from him. He stretches over Clint and pulls a box from the small table by the door.

He hadn’t planned to give it to him now. Bucky wanted to wait for his birthday, which was only a few days away but today seemed like it had been more than just rough and Bucky concluded that he could give Clint a surprise to make the day even marginally better.

He watches Clint fumble with the box and the tape at the edges, a fond smile on his lips. Eventually Clint gets frustrated with his inability to open it with that damn brace on his wrist and before he can throw it across the room, Bucky grabs it for him and opens it handing him what had been inside.

Clint isn’t quite sure what to say when he gets a look, he isn’t sure he could form words at his current levels of exhaustion. So he doesn’t say anything, just leans against Bucky, kisses his jawline, he’d go for the lips but that would require him to stretch up and he has avoided too much pain thus far, might as well keep it going. He lazily signs a thank you and calls Lucky to stand and cover to his other side so he can make sure the service dog vest that had been inside the box fits well over Lucky.

He smiles when it does, fits perfectly and looks even more perfect. The two of them had talked about training Lucky to be a service dog, he had become such a big part of both of their lives and had the instincts to help them when they needed. From the day Clint had rescued him from those abusive tracksuit mafia bastards, he’d noticed those instincts.

The first time had been when Clint had one of the worst days of his life, his anxiety had been sky high, and every little thing seemed to send him into a flashback. He’d nearly gotten himself and Tasha killed on that mission, stuck in a vivid flashback from The Battle of New York that he left him frozen and terrified in a situation he’d needed the hawk like focus he was known for. When he got home, he’d broken down and Lucky had been the one to pull him from the brink, whining and nosing at him until he came back to himself long enough to call Bucky. Even then staying with him, his head on his chest until Bucky walked in the door to take over, and Lucky still stayed close by just in case.

And he’d done it for Bucky too, jumping on the bed and settling himself onto his chest , licking Bucky’s face until he either calmed down from whatever nightmares plagued him that night, or he woke up and scratched behind Lucky’s ears until his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal.

He’d even started to help Clint when he didn’t have his aids in, pawing at him or nudging him until he got Clint’s attention to tell him someone was at the door or that his phone was ringing. Clint’s favorite part about that? When Lucky had learned to not let Clint know when Fury called. It made Clint laugh every time and praise Lucky with the biggest slice of pizza he had on hand.

He was so damn grateful for this dog, for his best friend. Who knew the pizza dog would become such an important part of his life.

Lucky probably did, he was a damn smart dog.


End file.
